


A Flawed Amethyst

by peppermint_tea



Category: Weird and Unfortunate Things Are Happening
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Self-Reflection, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_tea/pseuds/peppermint_tea
Summary: School is the worst. Nancy is having a terrible day, but she's going to be strong and get through it.
Relationships: Nancy Trautman & Dorothy Borders





	A Flawed Amethyst

**Author's Note:**

> I really extremely enjoyed Weird and Unfortunate Things are Happening, a free rpg on itch, and in particular the story and the ultimate fate of one side character really hit me kind of hard. I was just thinking a bit about why it felt particularly meaningful to me, and decided to write some words. This isn't going to make any sense unless you've played the game in full though!

No one understands how hard it is to be a kid.

You think about this as you wash your hands, still furious at Mr. Arlington. Did he not know who your father was? You know for a fact he _does_ , and yet somehow you _still_ got a D on that stupid spelling test. What did it even matter whether or not you spelled words right, as long as you knew what they meant? You’re so good at words, but… something about putting them down on paper just always goes wrong. The letters twist around and don’t cooperate. But if you could define ‘transmigrate,’ who cared if you spelled it with an extra I or one fewer E?

Mr. Arlington cared. Ugh. Which is why you had to storm out to go to the bathroom, even though you didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, and you didn’t _want_ to cry about it, but… but…

It was Dorothy’s fault. She had looked over at you, those big shiny eyes looking… looking like she cared. Like she was worried for you. Like she _pitied_ you.

It made you want to scream, or flip her desk upside-down, or just, like, _push_ her until she fell over, and you could stand over her with arms crossed, smirking. She’d have to look up at you, then. She’d be the one crying. And then those roiling feelings in your stomach would settle into a sick satisfaction that would finally make sense, and Dorothy Borders would know that you were the Queen of this school and the absolute best at words.

But instead you had just slammed the classroom door on the way out, stomped down the hall, and cried in a bathroom stall for ten minutes.

You know that this isn’t really the best way to handle things. And throwing Dottie’s books in the trash again isn’t going to make you feel any better. But being a kid is hard and confusing, having to navigate a world that doesn’t make any sense while everyone treats you like you don’t matter. You don’t know how to actually be friends with Dorothy—not… not that you’d want to! You don’t know how to make your father actually recognize your existence or treat you like anything other than a burden. All you know how to do is scream, and thrash, and throw a tantrum, until _someone_ has to recognize you as being real and important.

You sniff again, rubbing at your face with toilet paper as you glare at your reflection. Your eyes are red and puffy now but everyone knows better than to say anything about it. Except Dorothy maybe. Maybe she’d actually ask if you were okay, in that squeaky voice she gets when she’s so nervous that you can barely hear her. A smile tugs at your lips a bit. That… that’d be nice. That’d mean she’d know her place. Her and her stupid shiny black hair that's way prettier than it has any right to be.

Something catches your eye, and you jump a bit as you realize that a beetle is crawling across the counter towards the sink. This filthy school! You bend over to stare at it, simultaneously fascinated and repulsed. It has these spindly insect legs, and it moves slowly, tilting back and forth as it walks. Its shell is the loveliest color, seeming to shine with rainbows in the fluorescent lights. You know the word for that, too: ‘iridescent.’ It’s just like this one stone in a book you have at home, about all kinds of rocks and gems.

You wonder if Dorothy likes rocks and gems. You’ve seen her furtively drawing something in her notebook when she thinks no one is watching. Ha! You’re always watching. And when you tried to catch a glimpse that one time, you thought you saw a picture of a girl with a magic wand tipped with a crystal. That’s like a kind of rock. Maybe if you stole her books again, you could take a look at what she was drawing, you muse to yourself. 

The bug is getting closer. It’s almost to the sink. You pull a paper towel from the dispenser and carefully fold it over, then set it over the creature. And then, pushing hard with your thumb, you smush it, shivering a bit at the _crunch_ sound.

You look up at the mirror one last time, making sure your hair looks perfect and your favorite yellow headband is on just right. It’s time to go back to class, and if there's one thing your dad has taught you, it's to make sure that you're the most important person in any room you walk into.

Being a kid is hard, but the good part is that you don’t have to be a kid forever. You feel certain that one day this is all going to make more sense. One day you’ll figure out some better way to deal with things that you really like, rather than just breaking them. You still have plenty of time to grow up, and even… even if maybe you’re making some mistakes _now_ , those aren’t always going to define you. 

After all, you have your whole future still ahead of you.


End file.
